


An angel in a black Bentley

by Zerikya



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Quote: You go too fast for me Crowley (Good Omens), Suicidal Thoughts, Watch me cry about this until the end of times, but very very slightly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:06:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerikya/pseuds/Zerikya
Summary: « You go too fast for me, Crowley. »Crowley stood there, time stopped around him.





	An angel in a black Bentley

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Un ange dans une Bentley noire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479259) by [Zerikya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerikya/pseuds/Zerikya). 



> I wrote this as it came to me, pretty naturally, in under an hour, because I just have too many feelings about that damned scene. 
> 
> Hoping someone, maybe, will enjoy this little piece of Crowley's mind. 
> 
> [This is a translation of my own work, english is not my first language, yaddi yaddi yadda]

« You go too fast for me, Crowley. »

Crowley stood there, time stopped around him. Aziraphale’s face, his oh-so-white silhouette, so pure, was standing out against the Bentley’s dark frame, and this terrible contrast made his eyes drown for a moment.

« You go too fast for me, Crowley. »

All around them, passerbies were rushing down the streets, blind and deaf to the desperately silent storm raging in the black car in which two celestials stood, in which time stretched, unflagging, quartering Crowley himself. The corners of his mouth almost went down in a consequentially disastrous pout, but he took a hold of himself, hiding behind his tinted glasses.

« You go too fast for me, Crowley. »

Aziraphale was there, his smile gone, the shine of his eyes darkened by his words, so harsh and terrible, so terrible it seemed to Crowley that he was never going to be able to forget his friend’s tone, that his nights and his days and his eternity would be haunted by his words, those words he couldn’t bear, those words he wanted to erase.

His angel was looking at him, ready to flee, ready to run and go and leave, without him.

« You go too fast for me, Crowley. »

Except he was the one who was running, he who couldn’t wait for him, he who went too fast and didn’t know how to slow down.

Words tumbled down in his throat and Crowley choked on them, finding himself mouth agape as Aziraphale turned his head, his look already shifting away, as was everyting else, and he stepped out of the car in silence, with no other words than those he had left there, soaking the Bentley, Crowley’s soul and his heart, running down his cheeks.

The door slammed shut and time went back to its original course, too fast, not enough, and Crowley’s throat unknotted to make room for silence, in a voiceless promise that never passed his Bentley’s doors.

His eyes fell down on the thermos in his hands, and it seemed for a moment that nothing else existed, other than that damned thing. His fingers convulsed, went up to the cap and explored its surface, until he changed his mind.

« You go too fast for me, Crowley. »

He felt like the holy water was already on his cheeks, for his tears were as painful and terrible as if they were made of acid. The Serpent took off his glasses and for a very short moment, an angel cried in a black Bentley parked down the side of the street.

When he drove back to his place that night, Crowley didn’t once go over the speed limit.


End file.
